Chapter 1272. Enough With All This Gentle Bullshit... Time To Get Rough With Them**

Chapter 1272: 1272. Enough With All This Gentle Bullshit... Time To Get Rough With Them**

For several heartbeats, the room held its breath. The silence was so absolute that the crackling of the dying fire sounded like thunder.

Then, the spell broke.

Lily stood first, her cheeks flushed a deep, feverish crimson that rivaled the wine. Her eyes were luminous, fixed on Rex with a desperate hunger that bypassed all reason.

Without hesitation, she reached out and slid her palm into his, her skin warm and slightly damp.

Diana followed a heartbeat later; she rose with a slow, measured exhale, but as her fingers closed around Rex’s other hand, he felt the unmistakable tremor running through her—the involuntary reaction of a soldier whose body was betraying her disciplined mind.

Elizabeth rose without a single syllable, her movements economical and precise, walking around the table to flank them. She didn’t seek his hand; she sought his proximity, standing beside them like a silent guardian of the impending storm.

Finally, Valentina pushed back her chair. The scrape of wood against stone was sharp in the quiet. She set her glass down with steady hands and rose, but she did not take his hand.

She stepped half a pace behind the others, her eyes lowered in a gesture of grim acceptance, walking into the darkness not as a participant in a game, but as a woman fulfilling a sacred, terrible covenant.

Rex led them out of the dining room and up the grand staircase. They moved as a single entity in the amber glow of the house, four women following the shadow of the man who had rewritten their world.

Behind them, the flames began to die. Through a subtle application of telekinesis, Rex commanded the candles to extinguish one by one, a deliberate retreat of light that left the hall below drowning in impenetrable shadow.

By the time they reached the landing, the staircase was a path carved out of darkness, lit only by the faint glow from the doorway at the top.

The great door to the master bedroom stood open, revealing a chamber bathed in low, honeyed light. They entered together, crossing the threshold like offerings being brought to an altar.

The door closed behind them with a soft, final click.

What followed was not the gentle tenderness. Rex had promised in his speech; that was the lie he told to put them at ease. What came next belonged to the raw, unvarnished truth of power and desire.

The night became a battlefield of flesh and sound.

The house became a vessel for a symphony of abandon. Through the thick oak of the door, the quiet of the manor was shattered by the sounds of something primal breaking loose.

There were no soft whispers here, only the wet, rhythmic slap of skin against skin, the creak of heavy furniture straining under desperate weight, and the increasingly frantic sounds of four women surrendering to a man who took what he wanted with devastating confidence.

Rex did not show mercy; he showed possession. He moved between them with a relentless, predatory stamina that seemed to defy human limits.

He claimed Lily with a bruising intensity that drew gasps of shocked pleasure from her throat; he took Diana with a rough, commanding force that turned her disciplined moans into guttural screams of surrender; he pushed Elizabeth to the very edge of her composure until her analytical mind dissolved into incoherent whimperings; and even Valentina, the stoic matriarch, found her carefully constructed walls crumbling under the sheer, overwhelming physicality of his assault.

The hallway became an echo chamber for their ecstasy and their exhaustion. A low, throaty moan would drift down the corridor, followed immediately by the sharp, staccato cry of a woman pushed past her breaking point.

There were sounds of wet friction, the occasional sharp intake of breath when teeth met skin, and the unmistakable noise of bodies being driven hard against wood and silk.

Rex was a force of nature, a storm that refused to break, driving them higher and higher, refusing to let them slip into the merciful oblivion of sleep.

He hunted their pleasure with the same ruthless efficiency he used to hunt his enemies, ensuring that every nerve ending was ignited and every inhibition burned away.

Downstairs, the grandfather clock ticked past eleven, then midnight, then one in the morning. The house settled around them, the wind moaning against the windowpanes as if trying to get in, while inside, the occupants were lost in a fever dream of sweat and sensation.

The moonlight slid across the polished floors of the entrance hall like a pale ghost, watching over a house that had become a temple to something far more ancient than war.

The night did not simply pass; it was conquered. The candles in the dining room burned down to smoking stubs before finally guttering out, leaving the great house to hold its secret in the long, dark hours.

The screams eventually softened into exhausted whimpers, the whimpers into ragged breathing, but the intensity of the night remained etched into the very air of the room.

The night went on for a very long time, and when the first grey light of dawn finally touched the windows, none of them would ever be the same again.

...

As the others began to slip into the first waves of exhausted surrender, Rex turned his attention to the one who had remained the most distant, the most composed: Valentina.

The arrangement was complete for the others, but for the matriarch, Rex intended to extract a different kind of tribute, one that would shatter the last vestiges of her authority and leave nothing but the raw, bleeding truth beneath.

The atmosphere in the room shifted instantly. The air became charged with a different kind of electricity, not the playful abandon of the younger women, but something darker, heavier, laced with the threat of violence and the inevitability of domination.

Rex didn’t approach her with tenderness. He grabbed her by the hair, his fingers tangling in those silvered strands with bruising force, and yanked her head back.

Valentina let out a sharp, strangled gasp, her neck arching painfully. Her eyes, usually so full of ancient wisdom, flared with a shock that quickly melted into something primal.

"You think this changes anything?" she hissed through gritted teeth, her voice cracking despite her defiance. "You think you can break what has already been shattered?"

"I’m not here to break you, Valentina," Rex growled against her ear, his breath hot and dangerous. "I’m here to remind you who owns the pieces."

He threw her onto the bed with enough force that the heavy oak frame groaned ominously. Before she could draw breath to protest, he was over her, his massive frame pinning her down like a predator claiming prey.

He didn’t wait for permission. He seized her wrists, slamming them above her head against the mattress with such violence that a sickening crack echoed through the room as one of her fingers twisted at an unnatural angle.

She screamed a sound that was half agony, half shock, but Rex didn’t flinch. The sound only seemed to fuel him.

He began to fuck her with a devastating, unrelenting brutality. Each thrust was a hammer blow, designed to shock her system and bypass her intellect entirely.

He drove into her with such ferocity that her body bucked off the bed with every impact, her spine arching in ways that looked dangerously close to breaking.

The sound of their joining was wet, rhythmic, and violent—the unmistakable slap of flesh colliding with enough force to leave livid bruises.

"Fight me, Headmaster," Rex taunted, his voice a gravelly rasp as he drove himself deeper, seeking to hit the very core of her. "Show me that legendary will!"

"Show me how you command an academy when you can’t even command your own body."

Valentina’s defiance was a crumbling fortress.

"Damn you..." she managed to choke out between ragged, sobbing breaths. "Damn you to the depths..."

But even as she cursed him, her hips began to rise involuntarily to meet him, her body betraying her mind as she sought the very stimulation that was destroying her.

Rex’s hands weren’t idle. He wasn’t just fucking her; he was punishing her.

He delivered sharp, stinging slaps across her thighs that left angry red welts blooming across her pale skin.

At one point, he grabbed her throat, not enough to strangle, but enough to assert absolute control, forcing her to look into his eyes as he claimed her. Her pupils were blown wide, black voids of overwhelmed sensation.

The pain and the pleasure had fused into a single, terrifying torrent that she could no longer distinguish.

’This is what power looks like,’ Rex thought as he watched the tears streak down her flushed face. Not crowns and thrones, but this. ’The ability to take the untouchable and make her scream.’

The violence escalated. He flipped her over, forcing her onto her hands and knees in a position of utter vulnerability.

He gripped her hips with fingers that left crescent-shaped bruises, his claws digging into her flesh as he hammered into her from behind. The bedframe shrieked in protest against the floorboards.

Every time he bottomed out against her, Valentina’s head would snap forward, a guttural moan escaping her lips that sounded less like pleasure and more like a wounded animal’s cry.

"Say it," Rex commanded, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of her nape, drawing a bead of blood that smeared across her shoulder. "Say you belong to the Underlayer!"

"Say you belong to me...!"